


Tell you my sins

by Mordhena



Series: Anchor [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Fighting, M/M, Making Up, Mark of Cain, brothers pressing each others buttons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mordhena/pseuds/Mordhena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean fight, because Dean won't let Sam in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N So, this happened. I decided to post this because after all, stories are written to be read. It seemed to fit with the piece I wrote titled Anchor, but not precisely, so I made it into a two part series. It is long, so I have split it into two chapters and will post the second part just as soon as I have finished polishing it up.
> 
> The title comes from the song "Take me to Church," by Hozier

"I've told you, Sam, leave it alone. What happened when I was a demon stays there." Dean met his brother's eyes across the map table and held the gaze until Sam looked away. "There's nothing to be gained by picking it apart it happened and it's over and that's that."

"I was only asking, Dean. Crowley seems to view that whole time as some kind of romantic interlude and you won't even talk about it. He talks about cosying up and soothing your fevered brow and...whatever else. I'm just…"

"I told you that never happened. Crowley was still half stoned on blood. Whatever romantic notions he's got in his head are his own. The only time he and I shared a bed, there was a set of triplets with us."

"Like that helps!" Sam scowled and flipped a page in the book that lay open in front of him even though Dean was pretty sure that Sam had not read a word in the past few minutes. 

"Hey, you're the one that said we should have no secrets. Don't go bitching at me when you can't handle honesty," Dean replied.

"Well, maybe I didn't have quite so much fun when I was looking for you."

"You think being a demon was fun? You think I enjoyed being Crowley's blunt instrument? Actually, maybe I did enjoy it. Some of it, but looking back, it doesn't look like fun."

Sam got up. "I need a drink. You want one?"

"Yeah, pour me a Dewars."

Sam poured whisky into two glasses and handed one to Dean.

Taking the glass, Dean downed the contents in one and held the glass out for a refill.

"You're not even tasting that." Sam set the bottle on the table out of Dean's reach and sat down again at his place, flicking pages of the book absently.

"I taste it fine," Dean said. He stood up, reaching for the bottle but Sam was faster and pulled it out of reach. 

"You're drinking too much, Dean."

"Gimme." Dean held out his hand for the bottle, scowling when Sam set it aside on a small table.

"You have other ways of working that shit out of your head that don't involve destroying your liver, Dean."

"Why stop now? It's already half way there."

"Well personally if you have to die on me I'd prefer it to be when you're hunting and not because you drowned in a damn bottle!" Sam's eyes locked with Dean's and this time, Dean was the first to look away. Silence drew tight between them for a few moments. It grew so quiet that Dean could hear Sam breathing, the soft puffs of breath that told him Sam was agitated, edging on pissed and that there was going to be a fight if they kept on the same path. Dean kept quiet. Maybe he was spoiling for a fight.

"I want to fuck," Sam said. "Are you coming?" He picked up the bottle of Dewars and walked out of the room, headed back towards the bedrooms.

For a long moment, Dean sat still. He frowned. Sure he wanted to fuck. There wasn't really a time when he didn't. He was a red blooded American boy after all, but something about the way Sam said that, felt all kinds of wrong. He felt like going after his brother would be giving in, and he didn't want to let Sam win. Not when there hadn't even been a fight to speak of. He stayed where he was for a minute more and then got up. He went to the fridge. Got out a beer. Popped the lid. Drank half the contents in one long draught.

"Come on, Dean!" Sam called from the bedroom. "What's the matter? Don't you think I can out fuck a set of skanky triplets?"

Dean walked through to the bedroom carrying his beer. He leaned against the door frame. In the gloom he could just make out Sam sitting naked on the edge of the bed. "This feels wrong, Sammy." He said. Sam wanted honest. He could be honest. He couldn't think of what else to say, anyway.

"How is it wrong, Dean? How is it any different to what we always do? I want to fuck, you want to fuck, let's just get on with it."

"No." Dean shook his head. Took another gulp of beer. "It's wrong because you're trying to top me, and that's not how it goes with us, baby boy."

Sam shifted on the bed, lifted his hands so that Dean could see that he had cuffed them. "Would I do that?" He smiled in the darkness. "I just want the chance to prove I can fuck as well as any set of triplets with or without the king of hell. Let me show you."

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Sammy." Dean looked from the cuffs encircling Sam's wrists, to his brothers eyes and then he stepped into the room. He drained his beer and set it on the bedside next to the bottle of whisky. "You think too much. You always have. You get some bug up your ass and you let that big brain of yours run away with you. You give more weight to things than they have."

"Then stop me thinking," Sam said. "Just fuck me Dean, it's not like we haven't done that a hundred times before."

"But this is not just fucking Sam."

"No?"

"No. Because you've made it into something else."

"I'm not making it into anything. I'm not."

"But you are, Sam."

"Then explain it to me. How can you just fall into bed and have sex with four people who mean nothing to you but you can't do the same with me? I thought I was yours, Dean. I _thought_ that I mattered."

"Dammit, Sam! You want to hold a reckoning now over things I did when I wasn't in control? Of course you matter! What I did back then… that was nothing, that was…"

"Then why even bring it up? If it was nothing, why tell me?"

Dean pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head exasperated. "We're going in circles here!"

"It sure doesn't seem like nothing. You remember it! You pick that, out of everything that must have happened. You pick _that_ to tell me about!"

Dean lunged forward, catching a handful of Sam's hair in his fist, tugging on it, painfully, wrenching Sam's head back to force him to look up at Dean. Sam winced, blinking up at Dean through the darkness but he didn't try to break away. "I just want the chance to take you out of your head, like they did, and like the damn booze does these days. I just want that chance."

Dean growled and leaned in close to Sam's face. "You understand this, if you understand nothing else, Sam! They didn't take me out of my head. They didn't do anything for me. All they did was drop me deeper in it!"

Tears welled in Sam's eyes and he lifted his cuffed hands, taking hold of Dean's shirt in both his own. "Then let me help you to forget, because I know I can, Dean. I know it can work if you just..."

"I don't want to forget." Dean let go of Sam's hair and pushed him away. 

"So that's why you drink? So you can remember?" Sam reached for the key of the cuffs and unfastened them, dumping them onto the bed then he picked up his jeans from the floor and pulled them on. "You know what Dean? You don't need the mark of Cain to destroy you, because you're hellbent on destroying yourself anyway and leaving me alone in this shit hole!"

"Sure, Sammy. That's it, exactly. I hope that's enough to get you through."

"Fuck you, Dean!" Sam moved faster than Dean could react, lunging at his brother fist raised and knocked him to the floor.

Dean wiped a hand across his busted lip and slowly pulled himself to his feet.

"Fuck you!" Sam growled again. "You can fuck whatever and whoever you like from now on. I'm done! I can't do anything right by you. Not even fuck! So go ahead and do whatever you want!"

"Sammy. I can't...I can't do what you want. I can't hurt you, I won't. I can't let it out with you."

"Why the hell not, Dean? It's always been you and me. We've always been there for each other. There's never been anyone else, really. Why can't you let me help you?"

"Because if I let it loose with you. This thing that's inside of me. This rage? If I let that loose on you, I could kill you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A/N So this continues with some of the angst from the first chapter because it was one chapter split in two, but it ends on a bit of a lighter note and I hope that this chapter works. It gave me some issues while editing and rewriting and I am feeling a bit nervous about it. But here it is, so I hope you enjoy!_

The fight wasn't over. It had ended too easily and Dean knew that Sam was just gathering momentum for the next round. But there was a lull, and Dean was taking advantage of it. He sat at the table in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, and waited.

The pressure of the cup against his split lip when he sipped the hot coffee made him wince. Still, it wasn't the worst he'd ever had. Split lips, black eyes, bruised ribs any one of those could be on the menu when he and Sam got into it with each other. It was just standard.

Sam had taken to his room. He had the laptop in there with him and Dean knew his brother would be brooding over research while he got a good head of steam worked up to continue the discussion. It was just a matter of time. 

Dean let out a resigned sigh when he heard Sam's door open and the sound of heavy booted feet in the hallway. 

But something was off. The footsteps were heading away from the kitchen, and Dean heard the distinct rattle of car keys. He frowned. Got up and walked into the hall. 

"Where're you goin'?"

Sam stopped and turned to look at him. "I need…"

"An asskicking," Dean filled in.

"Well, I was gonna say I need some air."

"No. An asskicking is definitely what you need. I owe you for my lip." Dean stepped forward. "And I'll owe you two if you think you're taking my car anywhere."

Sam shuffled his feet and managed to look sheepish and mule-headed at the same time. Dean could never figure out how the kid did that. The whole two emotions at once. Seriously, who has a face that can display more than one thought or feeling at a time?

"I was just…"

"Yeah. I know. Well you can forget it. You don't take the car without asking, dude."

"Why don't you come with? We could stop at the diner and get some pie?" Sam looked at him and tried to smile.

"I don't want pie."

Sam sighed. "Dean…"

"Sam…" Dean got the tone and inflection just right, and smirked at the scowl that crossed his brother's face. No double emotions here. That was a classic bitch face and it made some small part of Dean want to dig in a little deeper. Push a few more buttons. Yeah, he was spoiling for a fight and he was going to make damn sure he got it.

"About that asskicking," he said.

"Really? Do you seriously think I'll just stand here and let you take me down, Dean?"

"There won't be any letting about it. I'll just do it." Dean snorted, shook his head. "One lucky punch and you think you're big enough to take me on."

"Look, just can the big brother crap, okay? I'm over it and I already told you you can do whatever you want. I don't even know why we're still talking about this."

Suddenly, Dean was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of talking. Just plain beat. He pushed a hand through his hair and kneaded the back of his neck with one hand. "And I told you that I won't use you, Sammy. You givin' me permission or whatever. You're not fooling me."

"I don't mean anything other than what I said, Dean."

"I'm telling you. Crowley, those triplets? They were cheap tricks. They were something to use and throw away. Not you, Sam. Never you." 

"Okay. Okay, Dean. I'm sorry" Sam said.

Silence stretched out for a long moment. Sam shuffled his feet. Dean leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. Neither one spoke for a full minute at least.

"But I still owe you one for my lip."

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. "It was a fluke."

"Yeah, you got lucky," Dean said. "What say we make some popcorn and watch some reality TV? We could watch the Kardashians and realize our family wasn't so screwed up after all."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was sprawled on the sofa, one foot resting in the floor, the other leg stretched out on the cushions. Sam, relaxed and drowsy snuggled in close against him, his head resting heavy on Dean's shoulder. Empty beer bottles and a half eaten bowl of popcorn littered the coffee table. Dean shifted position a little. His arm had gone numb from where Sam lay against him.

"Hey," Dean said softly. "You awake?"

Sam murmured something, slurred and indistinct and rolled his head a little in what Dean took to be a no.

"I gotta move, dude. Got no circulation in my arm. C'mon shift your gigantic head, will ya?"

Sam grumbled, pushed against Dean's chest with one hand and sat up, looking tousled and grouchy. "I was comf'table," he mumbled.

"Yeah, well I wasn't," Dean replied. He flexed his arm, opening and closing his hand to try and get the blood flowing again, wincing as pins and needles set into his fingers.

Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair, succeeding in making it even messier than before and then he stretched, sinews popping as he raised his hands over his head and arched his back. "So, you wanna watch another movie? I think Frozen's on the Disney channel. I heard it's good."

"Dude, not only is that a chick flick, it's a kid chick flick!" Dean shook his head at Sam and got to his feet. 

"You just had us watch the Kardashians and now you're whining about chick flicks?"

"Kim Kardashian is hot!"

"What you mean to say there, is Kim Kardashian has big..."

"And here I thought you didn't notice things like that!" Dean chuckled and headed into the kitchen. "You want another beer?" 

"I'm good," Sam replied. 

Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked back to the TV room. 

"We could watch some porn," Sam said. "Casa Erotica's probably got something you'd like."

"Or we could make our own porn." Dean waggled his eyebrows, took a slug of beer from his bottle and then met Sam's eyes, holding the gaze until Sam's cheeks went pink and he looked away.

"Sure," Sam said. "I can do porny stuff."

"Can you?" Dean sat down in one of the easy chairs. "Okay, show me how you do porny stuff."

Sam's flush deepened and Dean smiled a little. "Don't be shy, baby boy, it's just you and me. No cameras. I want to see you put on a show for me."

Sam nodded, a tight, nervous little inclination of his head and then began to undress. He pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor then began to unbutton his jeans. Dean leaned back in the easy chair and settled in to watch the show.

"Your skin's so pretty in the firelight, baby." Dean encouraged. "You gonna touch yourself for me? You gonna let me watch while you stroke yourself?"

Sam whimpered, pushing his jeans down over his hips and to the floor. He kicked out of them and moved to the other easy chair, sitting down with his legs splayed apart. He leaned back and allowed one hand to play across his chest, fingers teasing his own nipples as he met Dean's eyes from across the room.

"Oh, yeah, that's nice," Dean crooned. "You like that, huh? Pinch them, give a little twist to it, make it sting a little. I know that's what you like." 

Sam groaned, his fingers moving to do as Dean instructed. His eyes slipped closed as his free hand trailed across his belly, moving lower until he cupped his hand over his stiffening cock, fingers curling to gently roll his balls as another soft moan escaped his parted lips.

"You should work for Casa Erotica," Dean murmured. "Only then, I'd have to go on a killing spree. Go after all those dudes for perving on my baby boy."

"'M yours, Dean," Sam whispered. "Only yours." He fisted his hand around his cock and jerked it slow, hips rocking as he got into a slow, teasing rhythm. 

Dean licked his lips letting his eyes drink in the sight of his brother splayed out just for him. He watched that strong hand slide up and down the shaft of Sam's cock, listened to the slight stutter in Sam's breathing. He shifted in his seat a little, easing the pressure of tight denim over his own hardness. "So pretty, Sammy. So goddamned hot like that."

"Dean." Sam's voice was a breathy whimper. "Dean, I need... Need more."

"Do it, Sammy. Do whatever you need to do. Make it good for you, make it hot for me, Baby."

Sam increased the pace, adding a small twist of his wrist at the top of each stroke. He hissed between his teeth, the sound, a sharp note of pleasure. His free hand pinched and teased his nipples until they were rosy and erect. Then he brought a finger to his mouth and sucked on it. The slurping noises he made doing that were pure filth. 

Dean slid one hand into his own jeans and cupped it over his straining cock. He gave a slight squeeze, his teeth setting into his lower lip at the pressure. "Fuck, Sammy, you're a fucking porn star."

Sam groaned and pulled his finger from his mouth with a slurping pop, then his hand made its way down behind him and the slicked finger teased across his asshole. Dean swallowed hard, watching his brother tease himself. Dean's mouth watered and he wet his lips with his tongue his heartbeat ratcheting up a notch with anticipation.

When Sam's finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, they both moaned. Dean curled his fingers around his cock and stroked it slowly, letting his eyes drink in the sight of his brother fucking himself with one finger.

"Close, Dean. So close," Sam murmured.

Dean closed his eyes and then forced them open again, he didn't want to miss one second of this. "Come for me, Sammy. Let me watch you. Let me see it."

Sam writhed in his chair, fucking himself back onto his finger, and then thrusting up into his rapidly pumping fist. He threw his head back, every muscle tensed as he strained towards the peak of his pleasure. He grunted with the exertion and his breath was rapid and heavy. "C-coming!" He gasped a moment before his orgasm hit and he bucked with a hoarse cry, spilling thick creamy come over his fingers and onto his chest.

Dean groaned and got up out of his chair. Going to Sam, he dropped to his knees in front of him. He caught some of the thick semen on his fingers and offered them to Sam who cleaned them off with quick little flicks of his tongue.

"Damn," Dean said. "You really meant it when you said you could do porn. I might as well cancel my Casa Erotica subscription."

Sam blushed, and lowered his eyes, but his expression was more smug than shy. "Glad you liked it," he said.

"Like is not the word, baby." Dean leaned in to take a kiss from Sam's lips. "Are we good, now?"

"Yeah. We're good." Sam smiled a little. "We could still catch the end of Frozen. If you want?"

"Nah," Dean said. "I'd rather take you to bed and see what else you're good at."

~fin~


End file.
